Winter's Fallen
by Just-A-Ghost-Writer
Summary: After the events of Winter Soldier, Clara stumbles across an old flame she thought she'd left in the past. Literally. With the help of Steve and the rest of the Avengers, Clara works to fix Bucky's mind, but it's not an easy task. He's broken, maybe in a way that can't be fixed, but Clara will be damned if she doesn't try. Bucky/Clara & Steve/Bucky (friendship)
1. Chance Meeting

This story takes place somewhere along the lines of the messy Doctor Who timeline; let's say it lies somewhere after the events of the 50th anniversary special and before the Christmas special (obviously, as we're dealing with 11 in this story). As for the Marvel Cinematic Universe, this is set just after the events of the Winter Soldier, so if you haven't watched that movie, you might feel a little lost. Actually a _lot _lost, so maybe you should go watch it (by the way it's awesome)

This story involves a lot of fluff, heavily fixating on the relationships between Steve and Bucky and Clara and Bucky, but will also involve all of the Avengers as they work their way through the newest additions to Avengers Tower, AKA Clara and Bucky. This story revolves around Bucky's recovery, so expect a lot of pain, turmoil and torture as Steve, Clara and company try to help turn the Soldier back into Bucky Barnes. This is _not _going to be an easy ride, so please, prepare yourselves and... _enjoy! _

* * *

_Winter's Fallen_

_Chapter 1_

_"Chance Meeting"_

"This is brilliant!" Clara squealed as she scampered through the Smithsonian entrance. New planets were a blast and hanging out in the Victorian Era was always a journey, but sometimes the trips closest to home were the ones that brought the young brunette the most joy.

The Doctor had taken Clara to all sorts of History Museums in the past, scattered across the Universe in all kinds of different time periods. Of course, to Clara, most of it wasn't History and most was definitely not _her _History, but the stories the Doctor told Clara always left her with a sparkle in her eye. Sometimes it was just so hard to believe that this was her life now. Babysitter by day and companion to a thousand-year old Time Lord by night. She felt like a superhero, which, incidentally, was the very reason she'd asked for this trip in the first place.

"Alright, so I want to see the Captain America exhibit," Clara said hurriedly as she drunk in the vast interior of the museum. "I'll take a guess and say you won't be joining me."

"I just don't understand your fascination with it all," the Doctor grumbled as he followed in from behind.

Clara simply rolled her eyes. The Doctor had been this way ever since she'd brought it up and she wasn't stupid, Clara knew exactly why he was acting like a cosmic nine-year-old. The Doctor was _jealous. _It was as plain as day. Ever since the Chitauri invasion in New York and then, later, the mishap with the Asgardians and Dark Elves in Greenwich, the Doctor had been showing Clara less and less of the modern world. _Yes, _Clara understood that it was dangerous, but the Doctor had kept her out of London the _one time _Thor had been there. _Thor! _The hot God of Thunder with the gorgeous blonde hair and toned biceps, along with _other _parts. One of the Avengers!

Clara clenched her fists as she picked up her pace. She would be damned if the Doctor ruined this trip for her as well.

"Captain America was the world's first proper super hero," Clara recited with a coy smile. She could almost feel the Doctor rolling his eyes from behind her back. She elected to ignore it. "Anyway," Clara persisted, spinning on her heels so she could face the Doctor as she continued her pursuit towards the exhibit, this time walking backwards. "This exhibit shows us all the found footage, all the history!" Clara expelled a breath. "It's as close as I'll ever get to the real thing anyway."

The Doctor clenched his jaw in that infuriating way that proved he was not impressed. "You mean the Avengers?"

Clara grinned. "So you _do _know what I'm talking about."

"I know enough that we shouldn't be getting involved," the Doctor warned, though his gaze was beginning to wander. Clara grinned victoriously. She knew the Doctor wouldn't be able to resist a museum, no matter what century they were in.

"Relax," Clara said as she turned to face forwards again. "I'm not planning to turn up at their doorstep. I just wanna know more about the members. They saved the _world._"

"And I've saved all of time and space from being destroyed!" the Doctor said, sounding affronted. "Frequently!"

"Oh keep it in your pants," Clara scolded half-heartedly. Though in truth, she did enjoy the stories the Doctor told her. "We're almost there, you sure I can't interest you in a little peek?"

The Doctor rolled his shoulders in exasperation. "I'll leave the spangled latex suits to you if you don't mind."

Clara laughed. "Says the bow-tie wearing alien."

"Oi," the Doctor said, winding his fingers protectively around his collar. "Bow ties are cool!"

Clara didn't gratify that with a response.

* * *

Clara could only assume that on an average day the Captain America wing would be pretty hectic, but this was no average day.

The whole world had sat and watched the SHIELD hellicarriers as they shot each other down over DC. Though the media were trying their best to overlook the ordeal, Clara knew the facts. SHIELD had fallen; HYDRA was everywhere.

Because of this, a lot more people had taken an interest in the exhibit that heralded the information of the one Avenger that had had a hand in it all. Clara had seen some of the crappy camera footage on YouTube, but that was as far as she'd gotten. The Doctor didn't like her studying those kinds of instances. As far as he was concerned they were far too dangerous for her and, more importantly, not his problem. As far as he was concerned, the attack that had threatened SHIELD was human, which meant that the humans were more experienced in dealing with the problem. Clara wasn't a fan of that, but she was in no place to argue. The Doctor could pick his battles all he wanted, after all, the humans had _dealt with it _just as the Doctor had expected. Captain America had come to the rescue.

Clara smiled as she walked by the large World War II posters depicting Captain America in his first uniform. There were walls in every direction holding a different snapshot of the first Avenger's life and with it, a sizeable paragraph of information. Clara stuck close by to the walls that held the most text. People liked to walk around and take photos, but hardly anyone ever stuck around to read the whole wall. Clara however, didn't fall into that category.

Clara wanted to immerse herself in the information. After all, she spent most of her time with the Doctor running, never able to stand and bask in the places that they ended up in. Here she was, Clara Oswald, standing in Washington D.C, reading the walls that held the life of a human super hero. She'd seen all kinds of aliens, some on Earth, some so very far away. But this, above all else, made her smile. Here was an example of an exemplary human being. Someone who had been just as ordinary as she had in the beginning. A person who had defied all odds to become a hero.

As Clara filed through the crowds of people taking photos and chatting animatedly with friends, she managed to find herself in a different part of the exhibit. Captain America's face was still everywhere, but with it stood photos of his friends, the people he had fought HYDRA with. Absently, Clara wondered how it must feel to have thought you had destroyed an organisation only for it to crop up seventy years later amongst the very ranks you worked in. She chewed her lip thoughtfully as she glanced along the names and uniforms of the men that Captain America had handpicked to aid him in the fight against Red Skull.

_Timothy "Dum Dum" Dugan, Gabe Jones, Jim Morita, James Falsworth, Jacques Dernier _and… Clara frowned. There was another name there, one she had managed to skip over. With a determined look on her face, she backpedalled in her mind, bringing her finger up against the list of names. She dragged her hand across the text until she fell upon the name she'd managed to miss the first time around.

_James "Bucky" Barnes_

Clara felt a flutter in her heart as she read over the name once more. That name… impossible as it seemed, sounded _familiar _to her. Clara brought a hand to her face in nervous thought, her eyes scanned the name again and again as she stumbled backwards, surprising herself with the action. A number of people she bumped into shot her dirty looks to which Clara ignored. Her heart was thundering in her chest, beating out the name like a drum. _Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes. _

Without thinking, Clara turned on her heels, determined to know more. She filed through the crowds recklessly, ignoring the odd snide remark thrown in her direction as she went. The walls blurred together in a cacophony of red, white and blue, but Clara paid them no attention. She was looking for one wall in particular, something she had overlooked. It had seemed so unimportant at the time… but _now? _Now Clara didn't know what to think.

After ten minutes of fruitless searching, Clara finally found it. A wall dedicated to Captain America's closest friend. A man whose face at first had seemed to mean nothing to the young brunette. Now, it meant something entirely different.

_James Buchanan Barnes_

**James Buchanan Barnes**

How could she have been so stupid? It had only been a few months ago, relatively speaking. It was hard to keep track of time inside the TARDIS. Still, the Doctor dropped Clara off as frequently as she needed so she supposed, in Earth standards, it had been just three months since she had met… _him._

Unconsciously, Clara raised her arm, stroking her fingers across the large photo that stood by his name. She smiled to herself. Even in black and white picture-form, he was truly stunning. A man that had swept her off her feet from the moment she met him. Of course, it had been the 1940's in the midst of a war and he had been a soldier…

_Okay I'm pretty sure this is still Earth._

Clara heard herself, a mere echo in the past, speaking in the back of her mind. She closed her eyes, too afraid to let go of the photo that stood before her.

_Well yes if you want to get technical about it, we're still on Earth, early 1940's would be my best guess. No, wait, hang on, hang on… Oh! That's interesting!_

Clara remembered the Doctor as he excitedly spiralled around the TARDIS console. Something about where they had landed had been enough for them to stick around, at least for that evening.

_The Modern Marvels of Tomorrow exhibition, amazing stuff, must have been at least three times… which reminds me, if you see any other TARDIS' hanging about, remember where we parked!_

Clara smiled softly to herself. Despite her hopes of seeing a new planet being dashed, she had instead been presented with the start of the Stark Industry. A time where everyone was looking to the future, despite the war going on before them.

And that's where she'd met him… a handsome young stranger with brown hair and gorgeous blue eyes. They'd got to talking and he'd invited her to the exhibition, much to the Doctor's chagrin. Clara remembered that his reaction had fuelled her desire to go tenfold. She knew anything with this man wasn't going to be long-term, he was about to be carted off to England to participate in the war and besides, did she really want it to be? She had to remind herself that this wasn't her time period, no matter how enchanting the 40's seemed. At the end of the night, she would go back to the TARDIS and carry on her adventures and this man, well, he had duties elsewhere.

She remembered seeing the flying car, despite its failure when it came to presentation. She remembered her date talking with another man, a blonde, frail man who seemingly won no luck with his supposed "date."

Clara's eyes snapped open in alarm.

_No. _It couldn't have been, could it? Had she _really _met Captain America, _the _Captain America before he'd even become the hero everyone knew today?

And the man with the devilish good looks and cheeky grin; he'd introduced himself of course. He'd taken her ice skating, and, as the night grew later still she'd found herself in his company and his alone. She still remembered the morning after, stepping into the TARDIS, hair a mess, smelling of rustic New York. The Doctor had asked where she'd been and Clara had simply replied, "Just a little fling."

The Doctor had let it slide; after all, he wasn't one to judge. Clara had managed to squeeze a lot of information out of the thousand-year old Time Lord. One instance had involved a very naughty evening with Queen Victoria l.

Besides, the man Clara had met wasn't a king. Just a soldier with duties like any other. Except he wasn't.

Because that man had introduced himself. He'd said his name to her plain as day.

_Bucky Barnes._

_James Barnes._

Clara didn't realise she was crying until she felt the tears rolling down her cheeks. She wiped them away feverishly, hoping no one had noticed. Despite the waning crowds, no one paid much attention to the lone brunette girl, standing with her hand against the picture of a man she couldn't have possibly known.

Silently, she began to read the rest of his history. His time working alongside Captain America, fighting HYDRA, the Howling Commandos and, finally, his demise at the hands of a moving train. Clara shuddered as she read those final lines; she could feel her heart stuttering in her chest. The Doctor always warned her about the problems she might come to face with time travel, the people she would meet whose futures she couldn't change. And here was a prime example. Bucky had fallen from that train, but what if the Doctor had been there to save him? What if anyone had been there to save him? Clara closed her eyes. She couldn't let herself think like that. It was stupid. She was being stupid. With a shake of her head, Clara turned away from the exhibit. Suddenly, she didn't feel as excited to carry on her little research mission. All she wanted now was to find the TARDIS.

* * *

Clara stumbled down the crowded halls, whispering muttered apologies to anyone she accidently bumped into. Her mind was a mess of jumbled thoughts and emotions as she struggled to maintain a cool exterior as she searched for the exit. She didn't care that the Doctor wouldn't be in the TARDIS; he'd slipped a key into her hand on the way out anyway. All she wanted was to be left alone.

Just as that thought had crossed her mind, she glanced upwards and caught a glimpse of the glowing _exit _sign. Feeling a swell of relief in her chest, Clara made her way towards the doors, valiantly trying to wipe her eyes as she went. She knew she was being foolish, making a scene in front of a bunch of strangers, but she couldn't shake the sudden strong emotions that had overcome her. Bucky Barnes had died seventy years ago, but to her… it was like she'd only seen him yesterday.

With a final dash of speed, Clara flung one of her arms out in front of her, ready and waiting to take the door's weight despite the five foot gap still separating her from her target.

In that small instant where Clara's mind had been elsewhere, she failed to notice a hooded figure coming at her from her left. Had she been focused on her surroundings, she might have dodged that stranger, though, as fate would have had it, her left arm collided directly with his.

A sharp wave of pain washed over Clara, knocking the air out of her lungs. Immediately, she grabbed her shoulder, letting out a sharp breath as she rubbed vigorously at her arm. Whoever she had bumped into must have had arms of steel because the pain continued to throb through her bones even then, momentarily distracting her from her previous line of thought.

The stranger paused, though he hadn't turned to look at her or voice any kind of apology for what had happened. _Stupid, _Clara thought. Why was she expecting _him _to apologise anyway? She'd been the one in such a hurry to get back into the TARDIS that she'd very nearly broken her _arm, damn, _that hurt.

"Sorry about that," Clara said before she could think better of it. Evidently, the stranger didn't seem like someone to be trifled with. He was tall and muscular, though it seemed he'd given some effort into hiding that fact. He was wearing a baggy grey hoody which obscured most of his face and body, giving no indication of what he might have looked like underneath. Clara felt a sudden wave of foreboding wash over her, an instinct that she usually regarded during her time with the Doctor. The man had stiffened somewhat the moment she had spoken and for a short moment she thought he was going to say something back. Clara shook her head, expelling the enthralled charm she felt for the stranger. Something wasn't right; she needed to get back to the TARDIS.

Turning on her heels so sharply that her rubber soles squeaked on the varnished floor, Clara started off again at a speedy pace. She kept her arms at her sides, her back straight as she started back towards the exit.

Just as her uninjured shoulder had collided with the door, the stranger responded, "Wait." His voice was soft, like he couldn't speak any louder. For a moment, Clara thought he might be ill. Then he cleared his throat and said again with more conviction, "Wait."

Clara didn't know what possessed her to listen, but she did. She felt herself backpedalling, stepping away from the door and turning back to face the stranger. He'd turned to her too, and now Clara could see the shadowed outline of his face. Long locks of greasy dark hair obscured most of his features, but Clara could still see a chiselled jaw and a pair of lips that were set determinedly, almost aggressively. Again, she felt that ever lingering sense of foreboding. She shouldn't have listened to the stranger; she should have left while she had the chance. Suddenly, she missed the large crowds that came with the Captain America exhibit. She wanted to be back where people were paying attention. Still, there were people here, though their numbers were few. Clara knew that, realistically, if the guy tried something, she wouldn't find it hard getting some help. Besides, she'd dealt with worse. This guy was only human, right? The dull throb in her shoulder, however, reminded her of just how wrong she could very well be.

The man took a step towards her and, on instinct, Clara took one back. The TARDIS was parked just down the street from the Smithsonian, if she went for the door now, maybe she could get there before him. The TARDIS was safe territory; the Doctor had told Clara a hundred times over how sturdy her wooden doors were.

Still, Clara didn't know what to do. The stranger's hair obscured his eyes, making his intentions unclear. For whatever reason, she wanted to hear him out, but there was something in his stance… something trained that she'd only ever seen in attacking forces that made her feel on edge.

In that second, Clara made up her mind. She made for the exit.

She heard the stranger let out a slightly louder cry, though his voice sounded strained with the effort. A pang of guilt flashed through Clara's heart as she made her way out of the Smithsonian, trying to catch as many gazes of passing strangers as she very well could. Whoever this person was, there'd be no way he'd try something in a crowded, highly secure place like D.C, right?

Clara slid her hand into her jacket pocket, cradling the TARDIS key there as though it were her only lifeline. The Doctor had once told her that it was no ordinary key, that it held a psychic link with the time machine. Clara knew she'd never really gotten on with the TARDIS before, but she decided to give it a try anyway. Keeping her gaze set directly at the concrete below her, she tried to send her thoughts and fears towards the TARDIS, warning her that she needed to be ready to let Clara in, just in case.

_Just in case…_

Clara hadn't realised how far she'd gotten and, with a startled look upwards, she realised just how deserted the street really was. It didn't feel right. Surely there'd be more people around? Clara shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts, trying not to think about the man that might be following her at that very moment. Just as Clara's insecurities were getting the best of her, she caught the distinct blue paintwork of the trusty old time machine. Clara smiled as she made broad strides towards it, feeling very nearly homeward bound as she reached for the key within her grasp.

Just a few steps from the wooden doors, however, she suddenly felt a cold, unearthly grip against her shoulder. With a silent scream, Clara felt herself being turned on the spot, the steely fingers of the stranger forcing her body towards him.

Clara stumbled backwards as soon as he let go, too surprised to make it the short distance to the TARDIS. The man's hair had fallen away from his eyes; they were large, a mirthless blue and held an emotion Clara couldn't quite grasp. The hand that dealt the damage, she noticed, had been hastily shoved back into the pocket of his hoodie. Clara didn't know what to say. The man hadn't apologised for his actions, but there was an emotion written on his face that spoke paragraphs. He stared at her, a look of both bewilderment and recognition on his face. Clara didn't know what to say, until, very suddenly, his features took on a different meaning altogether.

Clara's eyes widened in surprise, the familiarity of the stranger standing in front of her hit her like a punch to the gut. This man wasn't a stranger… he was…

_No!_

She couldn't say it out loud; she had to be seeing things. She'd only been thinking about him seconds before she'd bumped into him… maybe it was some kind of crazy hallucination from that, some kind of weird space matrix that had taken over her mind? Clara was sure the Doctor could explain it in a form of jumbled jargon that wouldn't make a lick of sense to her, but would sure as Hell make her feel better.

Oh God, she needed the Doctor, because if this man was who Clara thought he was… but he _couldn't _be!

Clara felt her mouth fall open and, numbly, she watched as her right hand lifted up as if to touch the stranger's face, the scruff on his cheek. Thankfully, she pulled herself back to reality before she tried anything. Instead, before she could think better of it, she blurted, "Bucky?"

The man flinched. Visibly flinched, as though her words alone had caused him physical harm. His eyes widened marginally, a look of solid surprise crossing his features. He shook his head once before his lips formed a silent word, as though he were contemplating it himself. But Clara could read those lips, because they formed her name.

She nodded as though he had spoken aloud. "Yeah… I'm Clara, it's… it's me and you're… you're _you."_

She knew she wasn't making sense, but it didn't seem to matter. The man in front of her that was somehow, _impossibly, _Bucky Barnes opened his mouth to speak, though stopped himself before he could get the words out. Instead, a sharp flash of pain crossed his eyes. He took in a shaky gasp before collapsing in on himself, his right hand gripped tightly against his head.

Clara surged forward without even thinking. "Oh my God, are you okay?" She knew it was a stupid question, because he most certainly wasn't. Everything about Bucky screamed _not okay, _from his unwashed hair and broken expression, to the pain now wracking his body and finally, to the fact that he was standing right in front of her, _seventy years _from when she'd last met him and he was... _alive._

The pain prevailed and, overwhelmed, Bucky dropped to one knee. Clara knew she had to do something. She took a step towards him, reaching her arm out in an attempt to help him up, but before she could get close enough, Bucky swatted her away only to groan out loud in response to the action. Clara bit her lip. "I'm trying to help you!" she said, trying again to move forward. This time, Bucky didn't respond to her, though she didn't think it was because his opinion of her had miraculously changed. He'd been reduced down to both knees at that point, his body shaking with pained shudders, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Whatever pain he was suffering from, it was bad. _Really _bad.

She managed to hook her arm around one of Bucky's shoulders before he suddenly slumped forwards, completely unresponsive. Clara gasped as she held onto him as tightly as she could manage, keeping him upright for all it was worth. The strain sent shockwaves of pain up both of her arms. Clara looked towards the TARDIS with a feverish glare. "Well?" she demanded. "Open up!"

The TARDIS made a soft whirr of discontent before the doors clicked and opened wide. Clara nodded firmly, muttering a hollow thank you as she carefully tried to balance out the unconscious man's weight. Bucky was heavier than he looked; Clara knew she wasn't going to be able to _carry _him towards the TARDIS, despite the fact that her doors were just feet from where Clara was standing.

Instead, Clara knew she would have to drag Bucky, unless she could get him conscious again. However, Clara wasn't sure that was a good idea. She'd seen the confusion in Bucky's eyes, not to mention the physical state of him. He looked like he'd been to Hell and back. Who knew, maybe he had. Clara managed to heave Bucky a few steps closer to the doors, pausing to catch her breath and to make sure she'd done nothing to aggravate his already poor state. What had _happened, _she wondered, to leave such a man seventy years out of his time period? More importantly, Bucky had been the only Howling Commando to die in service for his country. He'd fallen from a train, down a _cliff. _Surely no one could have survived that.

Clara didn't have time to think. She didn't know how long Bucky would be unconscious for and she knew there was something wrong. He hadn't sounded right, he hadn't _acted _right. When he had looked at Clara, it was as though he was looking through a pair of smudged spectacles, like the image was only half there. With a sinking feeling in her gut, Clara realised Bucky hadn't really recognised her at all. There had only been a spark, enough of a memory to give him a name, but nothing more. That had been all too clear in his expression.

Clara closed her eyes, hating that she could feel fresh tears accumulating. She couldn't act like this, she _wouldn't. _She had to focus on Bucky, on getting him into the safety of the TARDIS. She could call the Doctor from inside; maybe he'd be able to shed some light on the situation.

After a gruelling ten minutes of heaving and pulling, Clara finally managed to drag Bucky through the doors and next to the console. He'd remained unconscious the entire time, practically dead weight under her hands, though there was something off about that weight. Clara couldn't figure it out, but it was as though his left side was somehow _heavier _than his right. Exhausted, Clara collapsed next to him, eyeing the doors warily. She glanced to the console, feeling the TARDIS whir sympathetically for her cause. "Call the Doctor," Clara said to the time machine, taking comfort in the fact that it could somehow understand her plea. "It's an emergency."


	2. Come to Light

_A/N: _So it's been a while, but I've finally decided to continue with this story. Because it's been so long, I'm gifting you with an incredibly long chapter, so I hope you enjoy it. Anyway, thank you for the reviews and... enjoy!

* * *

_Winter's Fallen_

_Chapter 2_

_"Come to Light"_

It took the Doctor ten minutes to find Clara huddled against the console, her eyes distantly fixed on Bucky's unconscious form. She'd been watching his breathing - studying his chest as it rose and fell between half parted lips - when the Doctor finally made his grand entrance. Both the TARDIS doors swung wide as the Time Lord stepped into the time machine, a look of abstract horror on his face.

"Clara," the Doctor said evenly. "What did you do?"

Clara looked up to him blankly. "I didn't _do _anything," she said, glancing back down at the sleeping stranger. "He just… he just came _up _to me and…" Clara drew off, her voice wavering near the end. She couldn't keep her eyes from Bucky. She'd seen strange stuff with the Doctor before but _this? _Clara didn't think there was even a word for it.

Clara flinched as the Doctor crouched down beside her; his eyes were set determinedly as he looked over Bucky's body, his sonic screwdriver already out and apparent in his hand. Clara closed her eyes as the soft whir of the screwdriver filled the air. It was relieving to hear a familiar sound after sitting in silence for so long.

"He's stable," the Doctor said before grimacing. He flipped his screwdriver up towards his face, studying it intently. Clara wondered briefly what he might have found. She straightened, pushing her back up against the console.

"What is it?" she asked.

The Doctor glanced towards her, his dark eyes guarded. "I'm getting some strange readings from him, _whoever _he is."

"Bucky," Clara replied, before quickly pursing her lips. She gave the Doctor a measured look as he gawked at her. "His name's Bucky," she said again, shrugging in an attempt at normalcy.

The Doctor only nodded before continuing his scans. Clara watched nervously as the Doctor's screwdriver moved fluidly across Bucky's chest, up one arm and, finally, rested adamantly against the other.

"What do we have here?" the Doctor mused, a hint of excitement in his voice. Clara frowned.

Carefully, the Doctor took Bucky's left sleeve and, ever so gently, pulled his hand from out of his pocket. But it _wasn't _a hand it was a… Clara's eyes swelled, her breath caught in her throat.

"W-what am I looking at?" Clara choked.

The Doctor frowned. "Seems to be some kind of metallic shell? No… _no, _it's more than that it's…" The Doctor's eyes glinted with feverish joy as he marvelled once again at the readings on his screwdriver. "Well this is rather fancy, and extremely advanced for modern technology."

Clara could barely hear him. All she could do was gawk at the metallic appendage where Bucky's left arm should have been. His hand, his wrist, his entire _limb _was made out of a shiny, plated metal. And it wasn't just a prosthetic there for show. She'd _felt _him grab her with it, the strong, impenetrable metal had dug into her skin, all _five _of his fingers had worked individually, like it was _connected _to him somehow.

"Is it alien?" Clara asked quietly, clearing her throat.

"Hm?" The Doctor glanced at her before looking down at Bucky. "Oh no, he's human, a hundred percent human, nothing alien about this one."

"Aside from the metal arm?" Clara deadpanned.

The Doctor shook his head. "The arm is man-made, made by _humans _that is. It's advanced… but it's not impossible. There are departments in the world that have access to this kind of technology."

"Like Stark Industries," Clara said suddenly, her eyes flashing. "Or SHIELD?"

The Doctor swallowed, his jaw clenching nervously. "Exactly."

"But that's impossible," Clara said, shaking her head. "He couldn't have come from SHIELD, he's not… I mean."

"You called him Bucky?"

Clara raised her head, dazed. "Hm?"

The Doctor was watching her intensely, his screwdriver pointed at her accusingly. "You called him Bucky." The Doctor lowered his gaze, his voice softening. "Clara… did you know him?"

Clara could feel the burn of tears at the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them show. Instead, she nodded her head, biting her lip so hard she was sure it would bleed. "He was…" she cleared her throat, stifling a small sob, "he was my fling."

* * *

Clara helped the Doctor haul Bucky into the medical bay. The Time Lord had been insistent on getting the soldier somewhere he could be studied further. Clara hadn't liked that idea at first; after all, Bucky was just a man, not something to be experimented on. Still, she couldn't help the curiosity that gnawed at her mind. She had her own questions - metal arm _aside - _and her own theories. Finally, she'd relented and helped move Bucky safely into the medical bay. Clara had never been there before, but it didn't really seem to matter. The TARDIS moved rooms around all the time and, seeming to anticipate their urgency, the medical bay suddenly appeared just three doors down the hallway from the console room.

The moment Bucky had been laid onto a metal gurney-like contraption, Clara had fallen into place, leaning herself up against a piece of medical machinery that made an odd, yet reassuring buzzing noise when she touched it. After that - and a slight prompt from the Doctor - Clara had started talking and just found it hard to stop.

She started at the beginning, from three months ago when she had first met Bucky. She tried to describe him how she remembered, easy going and fun, soft and kind if not a little bit cocky. She even mentioned Steve, remembering the doting looks that Bucky had given him when he'd left his friend to his own devices. Clara blinked wistfully at that memory. Clara deliberately skipped over the night-time portion of her story; there was no use going _there _with the Doctor, he'd only turn red and pretend he hadn't heard her anyway. Clara almost smiled.

When she'd finished her story, she looked to the Doctor for an answer, as though he could provide her with one right that second. As she'd recounted the story, she'd watched the Doctor continue his scans on Bucky, who had remained unnervingly still. His skin was pasty, and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. Clara had watched the Doctor use a larger contraption on the metal-armed stranger; something with a large green screen that made funny buzzes and beeps. Finally though, the Doctor turned to look at her, his expression impassive.

"So, you said he died?"

Clara's mouth almost fell open. After all she had said, for whatever reason, this hadn't been the response she had expected. She nodded when no words were forthcoming.

The Doctor nodded, evidently interested in that snippet of information. Clara expected him to explain himself, to say _anything, _for that matter, but instead he simply continued what he was doing, studying the screen that sat before him.

After a few infuriating minutes of waiting for an answer, Clara clenched her jaw. "So?" she snapped. "What have you found?"

The Doctor looked up to her, startled. "Clara…"

"No! Don't say it like that," Clara said, her arms folded tightly around her chest. "Don't talk to me like a child! I… I _knew _him and if you know what's going on then I need an answer, Doctor." Her voice dropped in volume as did the tension in her body. "I deserve that much."

The Doctor gave her a steady look, though she could see genuine concern behind his eyes. Finally, he took a step forward, gathering Clara's hands in his. "It's not good, Clara," the Doctor said, squeezing her fingers in a reassuring gesture. Clara didn't feel reassured.

"In my experience, when delivering news like this, you need to find a happy place," the Doctor continued, his voice hitching in that manic way Clara always attributed to oncoming disaster. "Now, I suggest you take a calming breath." The Doctor drew Clara towards him as she sucked in an obligatory gasp of air. She looked at him sternly.

"Doctor-"

"Maybe you should chant _'Om' _I hear that works."

"Doctor!" Clara growled. She knew when the alien was stalling and _this _was a prime example of one of those times. "Just-just tell me, _please._"

The Doctor's shoulders heaved in defeat. "Very well, I suppose that didn't work last time anyway." His eyes grew grave as he looked at Clara and very suddenly she felt a chill shoot up her spine. "This man that you claimed to have known, Bucky Barnes… he doesn't exist. Not anymore."

Clara stared at the Doctor, completely dumbfounded. "Don't be daft," she said, though even she could detect the whine in her voice. "He's lying right there."

The Doctor shook his head as his giddy facade finally began to slip. "Bucky Barnes died in action, just like you said. I did a facial recognition scan," the Doctor gestured to the machine he had been contemplating, "and the machine gave me two matches."

Clara frowned. "Two?"

The Doctor nodded, his jaw clenching unconsciously. "One for the man who died in combat, another for a very recent attack in Washington D.C. It seems as though someone filmed a stand-off that occurred between a group of HYDRA operatives and Captain America."

Clara blinked rapidly, trying to figure out what the Doctor was telling her, but no matter how hard she tried, his words didn't make sense. "I don't-"

"Clara," the Doctor said quietly. "The man lying before you is a killer, credited with over two dozen assassinations. He's been on UNIT's radar as well as SHIELD's, though they never admitted to it."

Clara shook her head once, then twice, then until the room around her was nothing but a blur of colour. "No," she whispered. "That's not- how could you know that?" Her voice suddenly turned hard, guarded. "How could you possibly know anything about him?"

The Doctor looked utterly guilt-stricken. "When SHIELD fell, any files that were recovered went to UNIT. The TARDIS has a link to their data files; when I did the facial recognition, it found a file in their data banks for a project called…" the Doctor swallowed, "called the Winter Soldier."

Clara felt the world swirl around her as she took a step back in surprise.

"He's an experiment, Clara. A brainwashed assassin, I doubt anything of the man that you knew even remains intact."

With that said, Clara's head snapped back to the Doctor with impressive speed. She stared at him, her eyes glassy and unwilling to focus. "No," she whispered. "You're wrong."

The Doctor shook his head, opening his mouth to speak, but Clara wouldn't allow him the satisfaction.

"He knew me!" Clara spat, hating how the words felt on her tongue. "He knew my name, at least. He _remembered _me!"

If it was possible, the Doctor looked even sadder. "Which, I think, may be the reason for his current state."

Clara blinked in astonishment. "What?"

The Doctor reached for Clara's hands, but she flinched back instinctively. The Doctor was lying to her, he had to be _lying. _How could she trust him, anyway? He'd lied to her before.

_But always to keep you safe, _the voice in her head reminded, _what is he keeping you safe from by telling you this?_

"Clara," the Doctor said, and this time she could detect a new emotion in his tone. A strained, very well maintained anger broke free from his voice, sending another shudder through her body. "Bucky Barnes was taken into a HYDRA facility seventy years ago, the file…" the Doctor's voice drew off as he swallowed and something about the action frightened Clara, scaring her to the core. The Doctor hardly ever lost his temper, but there was something bubbling at the surface of his personality, Clara could sense it. Whatever he had read on that file, whatever he had _seen…_

_He can't be lying, _the voice reasoned, heart broken. _He's telling the truth._

The Doctor drew away from Clara, gesturing towards the screen which now had paragraphs of information dotted across it, none of which Clara could read from that distance. She didn't care, she'd trust in what the Doctor told her. She didn't have much of a choice.

"The file dictates that Bucky's mind was wiped, probed and _played with _for decades, they constructed a metallic appendage to replace his left arm and wiped him, leaving him a clean slate." The Doctor's eyes looked glassy as he stared at the information. "The perfect weapon."

Clara wanted to run, just as she had at the Smithsonian. But where was the danger now? The Doctor expected her to believe that it was lying right in front of her, unconscious on a gurney. "What did you mean when you said I caused this?" she asked, her voice betraying no sign of her current state. She instead clenched her fists and set her gaze firmly on the Doctor.

The Doctor sighed. "Memories can be repressed, but even HYDRA or… SHIELD don't have the technology to remove them entirely, however, from what I've read," and the Doctor's eyes showed he was sickened by it, "I think they used a form of negative reinforcement to control his thoughts. They wiped him every time he showed signs of past memories resurfacing, a procedure which would have been very painful I imagine." The Doctor swiped a hand across his chin, a nervous gesture that sent all sorts of new thoughts coursing through Clara's mind.

Finally the Doctor straightened, clearing his throat as he did so. "Bucky - the Soldier - collapsed when he met you because a new memory came to light, something small, _impossibly _small, but enough for him to feel the pain associated with the wiping process." The Doctor wouldn't meet Clara's gaze. "His body was rendered unconscious, simply because it was… easier for him. I'm not- I'm not sure what I can do."

And there it was; the vulnerability that Clara rarely if _ever _heard from the Doctor. He was stood in front of that screen, staring from Bucky to the words it displayed and he _didn't have a clue._

Clara took a step forward before reaching out to grab the Doctor's arm. She held onto him like a child, her eyes wide and as fearful as his own. Finally, the Doctor placed his hand where Clara's held him, squeezing it with reluctant reassurance. "There's always something we can do," Clara said eventually, forcing herself to sound calm, to – _for once – _be the weight that kept them both planted on their feet. "He remembered me," Clara winced, "sort of, and that proves something."

The Doctor looked at her uncertainly. "What?"

Clara smiled. "That the memories aren't lost, that he can get them back."

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, but Clara wouldn't allow the interruption. She was on a roll.

"I know it's a long shot, but we have to try." She collected herself, standing a little straighter. "I read who Bucky was in the Smithsonian, that's where I found him, and if Bucky was there then he was there for his own purpose. HYDRA's been revealed to the world, we know that, and whatever Captain America and Black Widow and that guy with the wings did- _Falcon -_"

"You've been looking at the UNIT files again, haven't you?" the Doctor groaned, but Clara paid him no attention.

"It doesn't matter what I've read," Clara shrugged, "and besides, it was the TARDIS who helped me find them, how was _I _supposed to know they were from UNIT?"

"How about the big UNIT stamp at the top of them?" the Doctor muttered, though it was clear he was more amused than angry.

Clara tried for another smile, this time getting the Doctor to smile along with her. "What I'm trying to say is the Winter Soldier project doesn't exist anymore. If those files were with UNIT, then that must mean the whole project was abandoned."

"Not necessarily…" the Doctor said warily.

"Well then we'll have to make sure!" Clara insisted, her eyes bright with new-found purpose. "Bucky was out there alone, and don't try to tell me that it was some kind of plot, because he wouldn't have followed me if it was! He's not past gone and we can bring him back, but we'll need help." Clara had already moved towards the gurney, forcing herself to look down at the man she had once known. Bucky was breathing steadily, his lips slightly parted. Unconsciously, Clara pushed his overgrown bangs from out of his face, cringing at the presence of sweat on his forehead.

She could feel a steady rage bubbling in her gut that could have easily rivalled the Doctor's. HYDRA was to blame for this. They'd taken a man and _used _him as their own personal weapon. She'd seen the look in Bucky's eyes moments before he'd collapsed; the confusion and terror that seemed to override his hardened exterior. He was still a weapon, but something _more._ T here was no way of telling what kind of mental state he could be in or _what _would become of him once they figured out a way around his memories.

Clara wanted to hit something, wanted to find the man responsible for Bucky's condition and personally make him pay for what he had done. Instead, Clara did none of those things. Instead, she took in a shaky breath and stepped away from the unconscious soldier. "I want to read that file," she said tightly, giving the Doctor a meaningful look. "And I want you to find anything more you can on the Winter Soldier project. I _want _to know how done HYDRA really is with all of this." Clara gestured towards Bucky, but this time she didn't look at him. This time, all her attention was on the screen that the Doctor had been reading from.

The Doctor nodded his head, giving a mock salute. "You're the boss."

Clara grinned defiantly, placing her hands against her hips. "I _am _the boss."

* * *

Clara's anger only heightened the further she read into the file the Doctor had provided her with. Without his reassuring presence, Clara could only see red as she scanned through the long paragraphs of information that had been copied and noted from the original file that had been allegedly recovered from Kiev. The procedures done to Bucky's mind were written in alarming detail and at times, Clara had to look away entirely, forcing herself to breathe evenly.

Bucky hadn't moved from his unconscious spot on the gurney, but Clara couldn't help but notice that his breathing seemed to be getting harder. The Doctor hadn't gone into much detail on this forced coma that Bucky had seemed to have fallen into, but it couldn't be good for him or his mind.

And what a number they had done to his mind. The Winter Soldier project had been inhumane, a total violation of free will. Bucky had been injected with a serum that included components Clara had never even heard of. Whatever it was acted a lot like the Super Serum she heard so much about when she'd been at the Captain America exhibit. From what she'd read, Bucky had something akin to it in his system long before he'd fallen from the train. Clara had read about the 107th being kidnapped and tested on at a HYDRA base but this… _this _was just sick.

There were other drugs and serums that had been pumped into Bucky, again, none of the medical terms made any sense to Clara but she could only assume it was bad. After all the tests, they'd had their own super soldier to toy with, to send out on missions, to assassinate people that were seen as threats to HYDRA. To cause enough chaos to bring the people of Earth to their knees, to beg to relent their free will to HYDRA's cause. Clara swallowed, feeling nauseated just by the thought. Bucky had been nothing but a puppet in all of this, a puppet without a mind. And who were you really without your memories or personality? What could you become without the components that made you _you?_

Just as that thought had crossed Clara's mind, she heard movement from ahead of her.

Clara glanced away from the screen just in time to catch the flash of a metal arm as it twitched on the gurney. Before Clara could react, the Winter Soldier's eyes snapped open.

What happened next, Clara would later remember as a blur.

The gurney was flipped over rather unceremoniously as Bucky practically flew to his feet, eyes wide with both alarm and confusion. Clara opened her mouth to say something, _anything _that might diffuse the situation, but before she could form the words, Bucky's eyes had already narrowed, the warm blue that Clara had once known so intimately now clouded over like a storm. Bucky was tense all over, any sense of vulnerability dashed. His eyes scanned the room robotically.

Still, Clara stood her ground. The fear she felt was practically crippling and only doubled when Bucky's – the _Soldier's? – _eyes focused onto her. Clara expected to see a glint of understanding, some kind of memory that might shine through just as it had done not an hour beforehand. Instead, the Soldier looked away from her, his expression unreadable as he scanned the rest of the room. Clara expelled a breath. Evidently, the Soldier didn't see her as a threat.

That moment of relief was quickly dashed when Clara realised what the Soldier would be looking for instead.

_Escape._

Just as the Soldier had located the exit – the door had been left open for Clara's benefit – Clara finally found her voice. With a strangled cry, she yelled, "DOCTOR!"

The Soldier froze and this time, Clara saw recognition ignite like a fire in his eyes. Though, with that memory - whatever he attributed her voice to - it wasn't good. Clara realised with a terrified start that whatever she'd said had made her a target. The Soldier spun on his heels to face her, a controlled rage like no other blazing in his mirthless blue gaze.

"Bucky." It was the only thing Clara could think to say, the only hope she had to remind him of who he was. It didn't seem to matter. Whatever she had said or done overruled whatever scrap of memory the Winter Soldier may have had of her.

Clara stepped back towards the wall, realising with a start that she had managed to corner herself. _Stupid, _she thought, before quickly snapping her attention back to what was happening. Bucky's expression was completely blank except for a crease in his eyebrows and the fire in his eyes. His teeth gritted together as he swung his metal arm back, readying for an attack that Clara hadn't anticipated.

With a swallowed scream, Clara ducked out of the way just as Bucky's arm collided with the wall of the medical room. His arm connected with the metal, the collision only lasting seconds, but, in the aftermath, managing to leave a sizeable dent in the TARDIS.

The only thing Clara could help but think was, _she's not gonna like that._

As though her thoughts had awoken something, the entire room suddenly gave off a startled jolt, knocking Clara straight to her knees. Clara didn't even have time to acknowledge the pain crashing through her legs before she was back on her feet again, hobbling away from the Winter Soldier with wide, fearful eyes.

"Bucky, please!" she cried again in an attempt to dissuade him. "You know me!"

But Bucky didn't answer, or rather, the _Soldier _didn't. It was plain to see as anything else, Clara knew that now. Like the flip of a switch he'd changed. The Bucky she knew didn't exist, not in that moment.

As the Soldier moved in for another attack, Clara was prepared to run when, suddenly, a flash of a tweed suit and bow tie caught her attention from the doorway.

The Soldier noticed too, for suddenly his attention was on the Doctor whose face was a mask of practiced calm.

The Soldier's face twisted into a sneer and for the first time, he spoke.

"_Doctor._"

His voice sliced through the room like an axe. Clara had never heard so much hatred applied into a single word before. The fire in the Soldier's eyes brightened tenfold and, before Clara could register what was happening, he was already just steps from where the Doctor was standing, metallic arm outstretched.

Incredibly, the Doctor let him approach. The Time Lord didn't move, didn't speak a word, though Clara could see his thoughts racing across his eyes. His jaw was locked in place, a classic expression that meant danger was imminent, but not from the Soldier _oh, no._

The Doctor lifted his own arm in greeting, just as the Soldier's metallic appendage connected with his shoulder. The Doctor squared himself and looked directly into the Winter Soldier's eyes, pressing his hand onto the soldier's right, fleshy shoulder. Time seemed to freeze around them. Neither one of them moved. The Soldier didn't attack and the Doctor didn't retaliate.

For a moment, Clara began to wonder whether the TARDIS had put them in a state of suspended animation just to keep the Doctor out of danger. But no, she could see them both breathing, she could see the flicker of emotion cross the Doctor's eyes. The Doctor didn't break his gaze, but instead let out a small breath. "I'm sorry," he said before grabbing Bucky's other shoulder and – in one swift move - forced their foreheads to meet.

For a very long moment, nothing happened. Clara didn't dare breathe into the silence as the Doctor held Bucky's head against his, his eyes seemed to flicker behind his now closed lids.

Time seemed to stop around them as Clara watched on, awestruck, as the Doctor forced himself into Bucky's mind. She'd seen him do it before as a means of psychic control, but it had never gone on for this long before. Clara clenched her fists lamely by her sides, her mind whirring as she watched on with nothing but her chaotic thoughts to keep her occupied.

Just when Clara thought it was impossible to go a second longer without breathing, the Doctor's eyes snapped open. The Doctor's body was rigid as he watched Bucky stumble backwards and collapse onto the ground. Clara let out a cry and stepped forward, but the Doctor held up his hand in warning.

"He's fine," the Doctor said, though his voice sounded strained.

"Are you though?" Clara asked immediately, ignoring the Doctor's warning and going straight towards the two. She knelt down in front of Bucky, frowning. He was completely still, his breathing coming in slow, yet steady pants. Whatever the Doctor had done had knocked him out, sending him reeling back into a state very much like the one he'd been in before.

The Doctor nodded to Clara's earlier question. "I'm fine," he said, flashing a small smile. "I'm the King of Okay."

Clara only rolled her eyes. "What did you do?"

The Doctor's gaze flickered back towards Bucky and he motioned for Clara to help him with the Soldier's weight. Clara agreed immediately.

Once the gurney had been righted and Bucky had been laid back down onto it, the Doctor let out a small sigh.

"I had to reach inside his mind, it was the only way I could…" His voice died and he was forced to clear his throat. "What I saw inside his head, Clara, it was abominable."

Clara believed him. The Doctor's practiced calm was fading, she could see the torment in his eyes; the pain.

"However," the Doctor continued, his eyes brightening marginally, "despite what I saw, I think I learned something as well."

That peaked Clara's interest. "What?" she asked.

"His memories were repressed," the Doctor said, evidently aware he was stating the obvious. Clara waited for him to elaborate. "I thought they might have been beyond reconstructing, the mind is a very tricky place… but…" the Doctor suddenly perked up, holding his hands out in front of him. "Imagine your mind like a long, _impossibly _long hallway, and down that hallway there are doors, thousands of doors, hundreds of thousands of doors!"

"Okay I get it," Clara said impatiently. "There're a lot of doors."

The Doctor smiled sheepishly. "Behind each and every door there is a separate memory. Now, in every mind you'll come across different varieties of doors. Some people are like an open book; nearly every door might be wide open. Sometimes their doors are closed but still accessible. Sometimes there are locks on certain doors, like childhood memories you only recall when a family member brings them up."

Clara nodded along, subconsciously placing one of her hands on the gurney. "I think I'm getting it."

The Doctor snapped his fingers. "Good, I'm counting on that, because I'm not repeating myself." He cleared his throat before continuing: "Now imagine a mind like Bucky's, every memory he had of his past life - the one he lived in the nineteen forties - has been repressed, locked away behind a door. Basically, every door in his head is locked."

Clara frowned. "Like a childhood memory."

The Doctor grinned, tapping Clara excitedly on the nose. "Exactly! Gold star! Every memory could, theoretically still be accessed, but the mind's a fragile thing, and those locks are awfully hard to pick, most of the keys have been lost along the way."

"But you could get them back?" Clara asked, for the first time allowing a slither of hope to creep into her voice.

The Doctor nodded, though his eyes had become guarded again. "Theoretically, yes. But it would be hard, Clara, extremely hard and… you have to realise, even with those memories accessed, this man won't be the Bucky you knew, he will still remember the traumas of his past, that changes a person, permanently."

There was something in the Doctor's eyes that told Clara he was talking from personal experience. She nodded, though she couldn't help but allow her gaze to wonder back towards the metal armed soldier. She retracted her hand from the gurney, only now realising that she'd been unconsciously fiddling with a lock of his greasy hair.

In that moment, Clara knew she'd do anything in her power to help Bucky. She glanced up towards the Doctor, her eyes sparking with purpose. "Did you find anything out? About the Winter Soldier project?"

The Doctor sighed, fidgeting with his bow tie. "I was meaning to tell you that, before we got side tracked." He gritted his teeth, looking down towards the unconscious soldier. "I was looking through UNIT's files and… they received a strange request a few months ago from a very trustworthy source."

Clara raised her brow. "What?"

The Doctor waved his hand towards Bucky. "There has been a search put out. Because SHIELD's been compromised, this _source_ has issued a search to UNIT." The Doctor held Clara's gaze. "For a metal armed man."

"Bucky," Clara muttered, the breath hitching in her throat. "Who was the source?"

"Well…"

"_Doctor. _Who was the source?"

The Doctor heaved a sigh, a small smile forming on his lips. "Apparently, it was Captain America."

* * *

Three months. It had been three months since the hellicarriers fell. Three months since SHIELD had been disbanded and, three months since Steve had last seen Bucky.

Bucky wasn't an easy man to track. The moment Steve was back on his feet he'd been out searching, demanding information from anyone that would give it to him. He'd been in regular contact with Natasha, though for the most part she hadn't given up her location. She'd set Steve up with contacts that she labelled 'reliable sources' – people that could help him track down Bucky's whereabouts from anywhere on the globe.

But Bucky was always moving, never staying in the same place for more than a day at a time. When Steve had first been handed the files Natasha had retrieved from Kiev, it had been like looking into a section of Bucky's past that he never wanted to see. Detailed notes had given him all the information he needed on the horrific experiments that HYDRA had done to his best friend, along with the man that had been responsible for it all.

_Zola._

The minute Steve saw the lists of serums that Bucky's body had been regularly pumped full of, he had known he couldn't keep this information to himself. Though he hated to drag people into something entirely personal, Steve knew he had to entrust someone with these notes, and a qualified Doctor at that. Finally, Steve had decided to seek the aid of one Dr Bruce Banner.

Bruce had been highly professional about the whole thing, he didn't ask questions that weren't completely necessary and he immediately did a high profile analysis on each drug that had encountered Bucky's system.

Steve remembered hearing the Doctor talk them out to him, as though he were a child receiving a lecture from his teacher.

_A lot of these are sedatives, _Bruce had explained, _components to keep a person compliant._

Steve hadn't gone into much detail on who Bucky was, he didn't need to, it was all in the notes. Well, all that _Bruce_ needed to know anyway.

_What really interests me is this component here, do you see it? _Steve had pretended to understand, though the words on the page made no sense to him at all. Bruce had smiled to him sympathetically. _A lot of the ingredients are the same as the serum you were injected with, which would explain his enhanced strength and healing ability._

_I broke his arm, _Steve heard himself saying. _When we were fighting, he wouldn't let go of the key and I-_

_It would have healed, _Bruce reassured, though his brow had creased with doubt. _Although, without a Doctor setting the break and the rate at which his bones would be expected to heal… I'm not sure what state you'll find him in._

Banner had been right, of course. The good Doctor had predicted that the first thing Bucky would do would be to seek medical attention, if only to set his arm to allow the break to heal in its own time. Despite what Steve had seen of Bucky he knew it would be first priority. Bucky was smart, a trained soldier. He would know what to do.

Hospitals had been the first thing he and Falcon had hit, which was another thing: Steve was immeasurably grateful for Sam's presence in his life. It was relieving to have a friend he could rely on, even when it looked like they weren't going to find anything.

No metal armed assassins had checked themselves into a hospital – not like Steve had expected it – though, just as they had been ready to give up, they'd found security footage of a nurse being confronted in a hospital parking lot. Footage courtesy of Natasha Romanoff. Steve didn't question how she'd found the footage when her connection to SHIELD had been severed. She'd only told him he'd know when the time was right.

When Steve and Sam tracked down the nurse, she answered their questions with surprising ease. She hadn't been harmed by the stranger, which immediately set Steve's nerves to rest. Despite this, the nurse had said the man had been twitchy, touchy and hadn't spoken a word. Steve had felt his stomach doing somersaults throughout the whole interrogation. When the woman admitted the man had just 'disappeared' once she'd set his arm, Steve and Sam were met with yet another dead end.

That had been the last proper sighting they'd had, that was, until just eight hours ago when Natasha had called out of the blue and told Steve about another lead.

_They're called UNIT, _she had explained. _An England-based organisation that deals with a lot of the stuff SHIELD did. When SHIELD fell, they took over a lot of their unfinished cases. They're a protection agency, mainly military-based. I told them you were filing a search with them, for the Solider, for Bucky._

Natasha had gone on to explain that after a few months of fruitless searching, they'd found security footage of Bucky returning to D.C. More importantly, they'd seen footage of him inside the Smithsonian.

Every hope inside Steve that he thought had been deterred suddenly kick-started again. Bucky had willingly gone to the Smithsonian, to the _Captain America Exhibit. _There could only be one explanation, he was trying to rediscover who he was.

So, Steve had taken the next flight out to D.C. He and Sam dressed in civilian clothes, mainly because the media were everywhere, trying to find any gossip that they could about the Avengers ever since the fall of SHIELD and the re-emergence of HYDRA.

Finally though, he'd made it.

Here he was in D.C, standing in front of the Smithsonian. Only in Steve's wildest dreams had he pictured Bucky coming here, not after all he had been through, not after the doubt he'd seen in his best friend's eyes. But this was good. This was _great. _If Bucky was still here – _please still be here – _then maybe he wasn't beyond reason. Steve was going to save his best friend, even if it killed him. It almost had already. What did he have to lose?

* * *

Iron Maiden was fittingly playing in the background as Tony worked. After blowing up every suit he owned to Kingdom come, he'd been faced with a slight dilemma, namely, he no longer had a suit.

Sure, he'd promised Pepper to take it easy. After the last few months of anxiety-induced nightmares and PTSD, it was all Tony could do to get some proper rest. Finally, though, he'd decided to start building his new suits which he was calling the 'Clean Slate' edition.

After all, his house had been destroyed so, working from the Avengers Tower - he decided - was very _Clean Slate._

Tapping out the beat to _2 Minutes to Midnight _with one hand and fiddling with the wiring to one of his newest creations with the other, Tony didn't hear JARVIS' mechanical voice as he attempted to speak over the music.

After the third attempt – and a rather resigned sigh from the over-worked AI – the music was very abruptly cut off, leading Tony to look up in annoyance.

"Whoa, JARVIS, not cool," Tony scolded, holding up the hand that still held a small, sharp-looking utensil in his fist. "I was listening to that."

"I gathered that much, Sir," JARVIS said sourly. "In any case, I thought you might like to know that there is someone at the front door."

Tony sighed as he threw the utensil – rather unceremoniously – into the pile of junk that now crowded his work space. "We talked about this JARVIS, if it's a fan you give them the usual treatment: thank them for coming, yadda yadda, but express that they can wait for _public _appearances for autographs."

"Sir, they claim that they are not a fan."

Tony groaned. "JARVIS if it's the paps-"

"They aren't tied with the media either, Sir. They were asking for Mr Steve Rogers."

Tony rolled his eyes. "You could have started with that, JARVIS."

"My apologies."

Tony made his way up the stairs, cleaning oil off his hands with a rag as he went. Once he had broken from the hallway and entered one of the larger living spaces on that floor, he was both shocked and yet completely unsurprised to find Clint and Natasha spread out respectively on his leather couch.

Natasha glanced at him as he entered, a coy smile spreading across her lips. "Thought you were finished with the suits, Stark," she chided.

Tony clenched his fists, throwing the rag at the expert assassin to which she – of course – caught between two fingers before impact. She flicked the rag onto Clint's lap, which earned a sour scowl from the bow master before he tossed it to the ground.

Tony rubbed his jaw in frustration. "And _I _thought I'd reset JARVIS's system so this wouldn't happen, _again._"

Clint smiled over to Tony unashamedly. "You really doubt Tasha's abilities."

Tony only rolled his eyes. "JARVIS, get the front door on speaker, please, I'd like to talk to our mystery guest." Tony smiled brilliantly when Natasha and Clint only shared joint looks of confusion. Apparently the two didn't know _everything._

When the sound of the buzzer at the front door presented itself, the room went quiet as JARVIS's voice echoed from downstairs.

"Mr Stark would like to speak with you, please talk clearly into the microphone provided."

Everyone listened intently as the sound from the other end turned to static before a nervous woman's voice picked up from the speaker.

"Oh, okay. Wait, do I just talk into- okay. Uh, hello?"

_Huh, English, _Tony thought. Maybe she wasn't a pap after all. "Yeah, this is Iron Man," Tony said with a cocky smile. "Who are you?"

"That really isn't important right now," the girl said, the timid tone replaced with something a lot more brazen. "Look, I asked the voice thingy to speak to Steve Rogers, is he here?"

"JARVIS," Tony muttered under his breath with an eye roll. He caught Clint and Natasha supressing laughter from the sofa. "I'm not going to answer that if you can't tell us who you are, if you're with the media-"

"I'm not!" the girl said, sounding offended. "Look… this is important, _really _important and it concerns Steve Rogers, so…"

"JARVIS, get me visual," Tony said, ignoring the girl's request. JARVIS answered a second later by turning a large screen on the wall which immediately switched to an outside view of the front doorstep.

The woman at the front door was rather short and pale with long brown hair reaching just below her shoulders. She wore a simple outfit, red skirt and tights with a black cardigan. Her arms were folded in an attempt at an intimidating gesture as she stared sharply at the small microphone that had popped out of the wall in front of her.

Tony suppressed his own smile. She definitely didn't look like she was with the media. She had nothing on her, no handbag let alone a camera crew. She might have been a fan, but something about the way she talked to Tony, with such purpose – he couldn't help but respect her for that.

"Okay, kid," Tony said finally. "What is it you need to tell Steve?"

The woman locked her jaw, her cheeks reddening. She didn't speak for a long moment, as though deliberating how badly she needed to say whatever it was she wanted to tell Steve. Finally, she let out a breath, her voice lowering. "It's about the Winter Soldier project," she said in a rush, like the very words were poison on her tongue.

The moment she had spoken, Natasha shot up from the sofa. She was at Tony's side in an instant, raising her voice for the first time since the microphone had been connected to the room. "Those are classified files, what do you know about the Winter Soldier project?"

The woman seemed slightly taken aback by the new voice, but quickly adjusted herself. "I work for UNIT," she said matter-of-factly, though her hands clenched nervously at her sides.

Natasha's eyes narrowed and for a second Tony thought she was going to go down to the front door and interrogate the girl face-to-face. Instead, Natasha folded her arms. "No," she said plainly.

The girl's shoulders relaxed as she looked to the floor. "No," she said sheepishly. "But I know someone who does and _that's _the truth."

Tony looked to Natasha for confirmation. Natasha only shrugged stiffly before turning her attention back to the girl. "What do you know?"

The girl glanced about herself awkwardly. "Everything that was on the files sent to UNIT, but this isn't about that, look, I know where he is, where Buck-James Barnes is."

Tony had no idea what was going on, but whatever it was, it seemed to have a Hell of a lot to do with Natasha and Steve's most recent mission, AKA the one that ruined SHIELD. Steve had been MIA ever since SHIELD had fallen, off to God knows where with some ex-military guy with a very impressive set of mechanical wings. Tony knew Bruce had been in on it as well, at least some parts, but he'd never asked the big guy what was going on, mostly because it seemed to be some pretty dark secret that lay somewhere deep inside Capsicle's big gooey heart. Tony hadn't pried into details and it seemed Clint hadn't either, because he looked just as confused from his position on the sofa.

Natasha, however, looked like a force to be reckoned with. "If you're lying to us right now, know that the consequences of your actions will be-"

"I'm _not _lying," the girl insisted. She held up her hands, a gesture - for the most part - she expected to go unseen. "Look, if it makes you feel better, my name's Clara. I saw the Soldier at the Smithsonian and he collapsed, he's been in our care ever since."

"Our?" Natasha and Tony asked together.

'Clara' shifted nervously from foot to foot. "The friend I mentioned who works for UNIT. It's just him and me, but trust me, we've been able to keep the Soldier stable, my friend's a Doctor you see." The girl smiled inwardly, like there was some kind of inside joke they were missing. Tony frowned.

The girl looked back towards the microphone again. "We found out that Captain America sent out a search through UNIT for the Soldier and we're delivering him to you, no strings attached, well, except one."

Natasha was leant forward, her brows furrowed. "What's that?" she demanded.

Clara took a breath. "We want to work on him, to _help _him, we have extensive knowledge that you'll really need." The girl gritted her teeth. "Although I'd prefer to get the consent from Steve, considering that's who I was trying to contact in the first place."

Natasha nodded to herself before answering, "Steve's not here right now, but he will be, trust me." Natasha glanced to Tony. "Let her in."

Tony's eyes widened in surprise. "You're serious? We don't know who she is! Who the Hell is James Barnes, anyway?"

"God help me Stark if you don't let her in right now!"

"If you don't tell _me _what's going on right now I could lock the whole building down, now talk," Tony demanded.

"I dunno, I think we could get around it," Clint piped up from the sofa where he was fondly spinning an arrow between his fingers.

Tony gaped from Clint's smug smile to Natasha's now stony expression. Finally, his shoulders heaved. "Fine, but if she breaks _anything,_" and he pointed to the two assassins accusingly, "I'm holding you both accountable." With that said, Tony sighed in defeat. "JARVIS, open up."

* * *

Clara sat patiently on the sofa, her hands interlocked as she glanced awkwardly at the expert assassin that now sat perched on the leather sofa opposite, apparently assessing her.

Tony Stark had wondered off somewhere with Hawkeye the moment Clara had been allowed into the building, but not before she had been firmly instructed not to touch _anything _by the billionaire superhero. Clara still couldn't believe she'd held a conversation with _Iron Man_, she actually felt butterflies. Those soon passed the minute she realised that the_ Black Widow_ wanted to talk to her.

Clara had expected something like this the minute she and the Doctor had decided to take a leap of faith and head to Avenger's Tower. It was the only public landmark that Clara could think of that they might strike luck in finding Steve Rogers. Avenger's Tower had the best security in the country – probably the world – and it hadn't been a hard decision to take a shot in the dark and try the front door.

_They'll want to know about you, _the Doctor had told Clara explicitly. _I've dealt with people like this before. Superheroes; think they know everything when they're still only human. _Clara knew that the Doctor was frustrated simply because it was only then that he started to disregard the human race as 'stupid apes.' Clara didn't mind, she just let the Doctor continue. _They'll want to know how you knew Bucky. Under no circumstances are you to tell them the truth._

_Why? _Clara had asked stubbornly. _I'm pretty sure super powered humans who fought off an alien race could deal with a bigger on the inside blue box that travels through time and space!_

_It's not about that! _The Doctor had scolded. Clara flinched on the sofa, looking downwards as she remembered her specific instructions. _Superheroes lead damaged lives, if they knew you had access to a time machine, there would be chaos. No, for the time being, the reason you knew Bucky was because of what you read in his file and nothing more. Don't worry about getting Bucky indoors, just keep them busy, I'll figure out the rest._

Clara had trusted the Doctor, mostly because she didn't have much of a choice. He'd made up his mind, he was going to help. But only in parts. This was Clara's mission more than the Doctor's. She was infiltrating Avengers Tower, explaining to the heroes what she'd practically memorised on Bucky's file while the Doctor snuck the metal armed assassin into one of the Tower's medical rooms – presumably using the TARDIS.

Clara hated the silence more than anything. The Black Widow simply stared at her - a stone cold expression - as she scanned Clara's face and clothes up and down, probably looking for an inconsistency, some kind of excuse to execute her then and there.

_But she's one of the good guys, _Clara thought stubbornly to herself. Black Widow had been the one responsible for closing the ginormous portal that had opened up above Stark Tower. Not all of the information had been explicitly detailed in the news reports that were pumped out not hours after the ordeal, but Clara had managed to find the right files in the TARDIS data banks. UNIT had everything SHIELD had on the attack, and there was no defence the TARDIS couldn't crack. Clara almost hadn't needed to do any work at all.

Still, Clara couldn't help but feel her face flush as she stared mutely at her knees. Finally, though, Black Widow broke the silence.

"How did you know about the files?"

Clara blinked slowly in response before realising that the Widow had actually spoken to her. "I- I uh, it wasn't me who found them," Clara responded, trying to cook up the lies the Doctor expected her to come out with. "My colleague did."

The Widow nodded once. "The Doctor."

Clara's eyes snapped up. "Excuse me?"

The Widow shrugged. "Your friend, the one who's a Doctor. I believe in any case that he's real. I was just testing your reflexes. Just in case." A small smile quirked at the corner of the red head's lips. The Widow looked completely at ease as she leant back into the sofa, folding her arms. Clara leant back in response. It seemed the Widow wasn't going to hurt her after all.

"I want to know more about where you found Mr Barnes," the Widow said, sounding professional once again.

Clara nodded, feeling light headed. "The Smithsonian," she said with a quick gasp. "Air and Space, when I was walking out of the building, we bumped into each other." Clara shrugged quickly. "Freak accident."

"Then what?" the Widow asked.

Clara knew this would be when she'd have to start lying again. She couldn't say that she'd led Bucky towards the TARDIS, her bigger on the inside time machine cleverly disguised as a police box. She couldn't tell the trained assassin that Bucky had collapsed because he'd _remembered _her, either. God, this just got more and more complicated.

"He collapsed," Clara said evenly. It wasn't technically a lie, after all.

"Do you know why?" The Widow asked, eyebrows creasing. "You said earlier that your friend had medical experience we'd need."

Clara nodded eagerly. "Definitely," she said. At least that was the truth. "He knows a lot about Buck-James's-_Mr Barnes' _condition." Clara could feel her face heating up again, but the Widow seemed to be more interested in what she had just said.

"What is your friend's station at UNIT? What base does he originate from?"

Clara blinked in rapid succession. Had the Doctor ever told her? Had she ever taken notice of where she'd been going when inside the UNIT headquarters? _Of course not. _She gritted her teeth in frustration. "He works in the London base, but he's been all over. As for his station… it's more of a _title. _He's their go-to guy." Clara flashed an appropriate smile. "Codename: The Doctor."

The Widow looked mildly interested. "So, the Doctor is his title, not his occupation?"

Clara frowned. "Yes _and _no. He's a genius." Clara almost bit her tongue. She knew if the Doctor had heard that one, she'd never hear the end of it. "But he does have a medical degree. He's fully trained and is more than capable of helping with Mr Barnes' condition."

The Widow stared at her solidly. "Tell me, Clara, if you and your friend originate from the London base, then why were you both in D.C at the point of your encounter with the Soldier?"

Clara's eyes widened minutely, but she kept a calm exterior. She could tell the truth here. _Sort of. _"More of a holiday than anything else," Clara said off-handedly. "The Doctor and I travel together when he's not needed at UNIT. He took me to the Air and Space museum because we both have a fascination with it." Clara smiled sadly. "It wasn't until after I met James Barnes that the Doctor recognised him from some files he'd read from UNIT's databanks. Top Class stuff, but those are the sort of missions UNIT entrusts the Doctor with." Clara wasn't sure where the truth had ended and when the lies began, but she assumed that if she couldn't tell then nor could her interrogator. She watched the Widow's face for any sign of disbelief or uncertainty, but the Widow only held her gaze steadily.

Finally the Widow nodded. "I'd like to talk to your friend."

Clara bit her nails into her knees. "Trust me, so would I."

As if on cue, a sudden high pitched ringing began to echo from down the hallway. A minute later, Hawkeye and Tony came sprinting from the opposite side of the room, the billionaire was swearing profusely.

"What's going on?" the Widow said, standing straight to meet the two heroes as they paused in the centre of the room.

In answer, the mechanical voice Clara had heard at the front door suddenly perked up. "Sir, I'm getting high readings of an unidentified energy source coming from the upstairs medical bay."

"Unidentified?" Tony muttered to himself before raising his voice as he said, "Come on JARVIS, use that brain I gave you. Can't you give me anything else?"

"Not at this moment, Sir."

Tony swore again before turning towards the Black Widow. "Stay with the brunette, make sure she doesn't get into any trouble." He motioned towards Hawkeye. "Katniss, you're with me."

Clara's eyes widened in alarm. "First, it's _Clara,_" she said vehemently, attempting to take a step forward. The Widow blocked her way, a look of warning passing across her face. Clara remained rooted to the spot, though she called over the Widow's shoulder: "I think I know what's going on, if you'd just let me-"

But Tony and Hawkeye were already gone. Clara let out a sharp sigh through her teeth. _Unidentified energy source _was one thing but it was coming from the _medical bay_, if that wasn't the Doctor with Bucky then Clara swore she'd drink a tub of the thick purple paste she'd found in the TARDIS kitchen last week.

"Come with me," the Widow said, motioning with one sharp jerk of her chin. She turned on her heels and started in the same direction Clara had seen the other heroes disappear to.

Clara gaped at her. "Aren't you supposed to be making sure I stay _out _of trouble?"

The Widow frowned. "You didn't come with the Soldier, but you assured us your friend had him. I'm assuming you came first to make sure you could trust us, which is smart by the way." The Widow smiled knowingly. "What kind of technology does your friend have with him?"

Before Clara could answer, the Widow was moving. She took a deep breath before bolting forwards, trying to match the Widow's easy strides. "I-uh-it's hard to explain," Clara said.

The Widow rolled her eyes. "You're very easy to read, Clara. Trust me, if you weren't, we'd be having a much different conversation."

Clara's eyes widened. "What?"

The Widow only continued her pursuit before saying, "I know you've been telling me the truth, so _far, _but that's changing. You're keeping secrets and right now, you don't have that luxury, not when we're dealing with classified information."

Clara wanted to respond with something more, to try to explain why she wasn't telling the Widow everything, but running up a flight of stairs had winded her and, by the time they'd reached the next floor, there were alarms blazing in every direction, all connected to one big room just down the corridor, the one Tony and Hawkeye were stopped at.

"Shut it off!" Hawkeye was shouting over the blare of the sirens.

"I'm trying!" Tony squawked, punching numbers into a keyboard that was set in the wall. "The code's not working, someone's jammed the frequency, I can't get inside!"

Clara felt her heart turn to stone in her chest. The Doctor was stopping Tony from getting inside his own system. This was dangerous on a whole new level.

"Is this you?" the Widow asked sharply. Clara felt her throat close up.

"Not me," Clara said helplessly. "The Doctor."

The Widow swore softly to herself before storming down the corridor towards Tony and Hawkeye. "It's the girl's fault!" the Widow yelled. "Her friend's here."

"Here?" Tony gaped. "As in _inside _the building? Because, I'm sorry, that's _impossible._"

"Not impossible for him," Clara said as she jogged towards the rest of them.

"And who exactly is _he?_" Tony asked.

Clara caught the Widow's eyes and, just as she was about to explain, the sirens suddenly died. The hallway was bathed in an eerie silence.

Clara stared dumbfounded at Tony before he swerved back to the keys, typing in the code in a blur of motion. There was a soft _clink _and suddenly the reinforced metal doors to what Clara assumed was the med lab unlocked themselves. Tony put a hand against the steel handle and Clara held her breath. Slowly, the billionaire pushed open the doors, revealing a large room almost three times the size of the medical room inside the TARDIS. Clara could already sense how jealous the Doctor would be.

The room was sparsely furnished, with odd looking machinery and moderately comfortable beds set up in a row against the furthest wall. The room was lit with hospital style lighting, forcing Clara to strain her eyes as she scanned the room for anything abnormal. It only took her a second longer than the Avengers to notice the one inconsistency on the furthest bed from the door.

The bed was occupied with a form Clara could recognise even from a distance. She took a step forwards before she felt a firm hand grip her shoulder. The Widow was yanking her back out of the room and, before Clara could voice her annoyance, the Widow had stalked forwards and grabbed Tony's arm as well. She yanked him back with the effortless grace of a cat before speaking harshly into his ear.

Clara couldn't hear the whole conversation, but she caught snippets. _Highly volatile subject _and _classified information _made it to Clara's ears as she strained to hear more. Finally, the Widow managed to get Tony and Hawkeye into the hallway, though Hawkeye still stood on the side-lines, his arms folded, body tense as if anticipating a sudden fight to break out.

The Widow moved quietly towards the bed, she was tense too, though on her it came with a stealth and grace that Clara couldn't help but marvel. This was a woman who could walk silently even in stiletto heels, a woman who could twist anyone's words in a way to get them to spew out their darkest secrets. This was the famous Black Widow, the hero who had had an integral part in taking down an entire alien invasion force. Clara hadn't realised she'd been holding her breath until she felt her chest ache with the effort.

The Widow came all of two inches from the Soldier before her eyebrows knitted together. She watched the Soldier, apparently lifeless and just as comatose as the state the Doctor had left him in for at least a minute before she caught Clara's eye. This time, her expression wasn't friendly. Clara felt her stomach doing somersaults as the Widow moved back towards them. Instead of approaching Clara, she moved straight to the Tony. "Did you call Steve like I told you?"

Tony frowned, raising a finger into the air as though he were about argue before lowering it again. Rigidly, he nodded.

The Widow nodded once. "Good, I need to get back into contact with him immediately." She pointed towards the door. "Get Doctor Banner on the phone, he needs to get here ASAP. Clint," she turned towards Hawkeye. Clara blinked, it was the first time she'd heard Hawkeye's first name out loud. "Arrange a chopper for Steve and Sam, he'll need to see this. God…" The Widow shook her head in sheer astonishment. Clara didn't think she'd ever seen the assassin in such a state of awe. "Keep the door locked, Stark," the Widow said, turning back to the billionaire. "Keep eyes on the room, but for the love of God don't go in there, not until we know more." Finally, she turned towards Clara. "And you," she said as calmly as she had produced all the other orders, "I want you to get your friend here now." Something about her tone of voice told Clara she should do it straight away. Clara dug in her pockets feverishly for her phone, never keeping her gaze far from the Widow as Tony and Clint disappeared to perform their various tasks. The minute Clara had her phone in her hand; however, it started to ring.

Clara stared numbly at her phone for a good few seconds before she hit answer. The Widow raised her brows at her before Clara set the phone to loudspeaker. Clara swallowed softly before answering, "Doctor?"

"The package has been delivered."

Clara barely stifled an eye roll at the Doctor's half-serious response. "Doctor-"

"Sorry," the Doctor breezed. "I've always wanted to say that! Though, judging by the awkward silence, I'm guessing it wasn't the best time…"

Clara gritted her teeth as she eyed the Black Widow warily. "You're on loudspeaker."

"Oh, right! Great! Hello!" There was a pause. "Who's with you, then?"

Clara closed her eyes. "Black Widow is with me, the others are preparing for the guest you just dropped off."

"Of course, of course. They really shouldn't worry, he'll be out for at least a few more hours."

"Did you sedate him?" the Widow asked. Her voice was rigid, but it wavered.

"Oh, no, of course not," the Doctor said. "It's a little more complicated than that, actually."

"Doctor," the Widow said seriously. "I'm asking you to reveal yourself to us. Your friend has told me all she can, but there are gaps in her information, gaps I believe you could fill in for us."

"I'm going to help you," the Doctor returned, though his voice had narrowed, "but I can't give you all the answers you're looking for."

The Black Widow glared at the phone. "That's not really in your control."

"I'll think you'll find it is."

"Doctor," Clara cut in, her voice pleading. "Just, get here. As fast as possible. We need to get to work on the Soldier."

"Dr Banner will be here shortly," the Widow said. "He will be the first one to assess the condition of the Winter Soldier before anyone else."

Clara's eyes widened. She knew who Doctor Banner was, or who he was better known by the public, _the Hulk. _Clara hadn't found much on the illusive doctor in UNIT's files, but she'd heard the stories. Infected with Gamma Radiation, Doctor Bruce Banner could now mutate into a large green monster which was – sometimes – more or less out of his control. Clara suddenly felt weak at the knees. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" she asked, echoing the Doctor's words as he spoke from the phone.

The Widow nodded her head. "Bruce Banner has been without incident since the events in New York, he is more than qualified to handle the situation."

Clara didn't like it, but she couldn't argue. She was the stranger in this situation, and she didn't have the Doctor there to make everything okay. He would be there shortly, but even still, this was a situation they'd never been in before. They were dealing with real bona fide superheroes; they couldn't pull their usual tricks and charms to get away with anything. Clara nodded her head and a moment later, she heard the Doctor's dutiful 'okay' from over the phone. He cleared his throat. "I'll be with you within the hour Miss Romanoff." And with that, he hung up.

Clara stood still for a moment, the phone still clasped outwards in her hand. The Widow looked at her a moment longer before shaking her head. "I have to contact Steve," she said, "there'll be a chopper for him any minute to take him back to the Tower." She gave Clara a hard look. "Can I trust you to be left on your own, Clara?"

"I'll keep avid eyes on her, Miss Romanoff," the mechanical voice of Tony's AI chimed.

The Widow almost smiled. "See to it, JARVIS." And with that, the assassin was gone.

* * *

"Don't take it so hard, man. So he's not here, so what? He can't have gotten far."

Steve knew that Sam was trying to cheer him up, but it really wasn't helping. He'd put so much _hope _into this mission that he'd almost forgotten who they'd been dealing with and how many times they'd failed in the past.

Bucky hadn't been at the museum. Most likely, he'd been long gone the minute they'd set foot in the state. It had taken them too damn long to get to D.C. If Steve had taken a chopper like Natasha had insisted – if he'd let her pull a few strings - _maybe _they could have caught up with him.

"Yeah," Steve said aloud after letting out a long sigh. He hated this, hated chasing his best friend around the country like a lap dog. He couldn't keep up with Bucky no matter how hard he tried and he knew, deep in his heart, if Bucky had wanted to talk to Steve, if he had any questions, if he wanted to _know him, _he would have made it easier. He might have even turned up on _their _door. But no, Bucky just kept running, kept moving from place to place. It was clear he was uneasy, unable to settle, but was that just because he knew Steve was following him? Or maybe he still feared HYDRA was looking for him. Maybe Bucky _wanted _that.

Steve rolled his shoulders in frustration. He hated thinking like this, hated wondering how much of getting Bucky back was just for his benefit and not his friend's. Finally, Steve turned to face Sam. "We'll keep looking."

Sam raised his hands in a half-surrender. "I never said we were gonna give up."

"I know," Steve said, lowering his voice. "But you were thinking it. We both were."

Before Sam could answer, Steve's phone buzzed in his pocket. Lifting the device into his hand, Steve pressed the button he had now memorised as the _answer key. _New technology was daunting, but he'd managed to get a hang of a few things. The remote on a TV, using the internet and – now – a cell phone. After the first few big reveals of the twenty first century, Steve couldn't even muster a look of surprise when being introduced to something new. If anything, it was just a look that read: _kinda expected it to be honest._

After answering the phone, Steve pressed it to his ear.

"Steve?"

It was Clint. Steve frowned; the bow master hadn't contacted him since the fall of SHIELD.

"What is it?" Steve asked because, logically, something had to be wrong for the assassin to be calling.

"Ah, Steve. We've got a situation down here."

"Have you told Capsicle the news yet, Legolas?"

Steve had to stifle an eye roll as Tony's voice reverberated from the end of the line. "What's going on, Stark?"

"Listen, Cap, Natasha asked us to call you, something big has gone down this end and I'm talking _major, _not like we know anything about it or anything, the Spider's making sure we know as little as possible."

Steve raised a brow. "Is that true, Clint?"

There was silence on the other end before Steve heard Clint take a sharp intake of breath. "Something's not right. Some girl turned up at the Tower and Nat let her in like it was nothing. She wanted us to tell you that it was concerning a mission you were a part of. Something you'd be really interested in, but she doesn't know anything for sure yet."

Steve felt his heart stutter in his chest. There were a lot of missions he and Natasha had completed before SHIELD's collapse, but there was only one she'd be calling him about. Especially now. "What mission?"

"She says it's not definite, she's collecting more information. But… she said it was the Winter Soldier project, Cap. Mean anything to you?"

Steve very nearly dropped the phone. He almost forgot Sam was still standing in front of him, a questioning look on his face.

"You're sure that's what she said?" Steve asked numbly.

"Positive. Steve, what is it? How important are we talking here?"

Steve shook his head. He couldn't let himself get his hopes up, not after this last dead end. Bucky hadn't been at the museum, but did this mean Natasha had a new lead? Who was this girl that Clint was talking about? "It's fine," Steve said as calmly as he could manage. "Keep me updated." With that, he hung up his end.

Sam moved closer to Steve, raising his brow as he asked, "What was all that about?"

Steve shook his head. "I don't know, it might be nothing."

Sam gave him a knowing smile. "You don't believe that, do you?"

Steve looked up to his friend before turning to stare longingly towards the museum. He sighed. "I can't afford to."


End file.
